Spectre and the Williams girl
by NCR Ranger
Summary: Returned to action, and life overall after his ' death ', Jeremiah Shepard tries to stay grounded in what keeps him in the fight against the Collectors. But, unexpectedly, someone from his past-someone he loved- comes back to the picture.
1. Chapter 1

One HMWP X handgun, with integrated laser, stun underbarrel attachment, and expanded magazine. A HMWA X rifle, with an extended barrel, tac scope, and recoil dampers. 6 Inferno grenades, with increased spread. A suit of Kestrel Armor, with additional power diverted to shields. An Omni tool loaded with Overload, AI hacking, Plasma shot, and targeting suites. A HMWSG X shotgun, with a Scram Rail and Cooling systems.

The buffet of weaponry,hardware and armor was neatly arranged in inspection-ready rows and groups atop the workbench inside the _Normandy_ 's hangar bay, lit by high powered lamps, and surrounded by tools, cleaning rags, and additional mods.

Shepard had spent the better part of an hour examining his preferred loadout, alone in the mostly quiet bay, save for the distant and familiar thrum of the Tantalus drive reactor, as the _Normandy_ powered along. Fresh off an op to board a cargo freighter captured by the Blue Suns-the _Strontium Mule-,_ what sat on the table had just been put through its paces yet again.

Regular maintenance was in order.

Technically, though, there wasn't any need for him to be here, even for that.

He'd already inspected and multiple checked everything in front of him this morning, with the same second-nature routines of always ensuring one's gear was in ideal working order that was first instilled in him from his days as a candidate in the Alliance's ICT ' N ' program. Every piece of gear present had not only been examined and was receiving regular maintenance , but had also thoroughly tested in action.

Which is why he didn't do this for that sake. He did it to help him think. It was a small routine he'd kept to from his earliest days as a rookie Alliance enlisted, to his tenure with the N7 squads.

He did it to help to unwind, to think. And he had much to think about now.

Taking the HMWSG into his hands, he began to disassemble it, as his thoughts played out.

 _Take it piece by piece. Try leading with how you're gunning a to have a rematch with the Collectors. I've been rounding up a whole new roster for a strike teams for past week: Zaeed, the veteran mercenary, Kasumi the thief, Mordin the scientist Salarian, Grunt the pure Krogan, to name a few. I've been from one side of the Galaxy to the other to track them down, dossiers with intel on their whereabouts or not._

 _I needed a while to take stock of everything I've been up to. Its not been long from when I was floating in the vacuum of space, all but dead, with my suit's air hissing out, my ship burned to ashes. Thanks to_ them.

The Collectors.

It was very satisfying, when he'd finally been able to put a name to such a bizarre and enigmatic species. There'd been random appearances of them on Omega over the past few hundred years,but aside from that, they'd stayed mostly in the shadows, Until now.

Now, they were active abducting humans by the _hundreds of thousands_. It was the kind of numbers that even the Batarians couldn't come close to reaching. They had not tried to openly communicate, and their attacks were over as fast as they began.

To make it that much worse, nobody had any real intel on them. The only ones who'd ever interacted with them, on any record, were various mercenary groups and opportunistic criminals who were drawn to the exorbitant and shockingly lavish rewards that the Collectors offered to them for fulfilling perplexingly odd slaver-esque requests: 50 left handed twins, or 45 Volus triplets, and so on.

But, and on a more personal level, they were also the mystery assassins who'd ambushed _his_ ship.

His grip tightened around the shotgun.

Those were memories he'd tried so hard to bury, but no no avail.

What had happened that night was too much imprinted in his mind. They'd jumped him with a perfect blitz attack: utterly abrupt, lightning fast, and overwhelmingly powerful. The general quarters alarm had barely sounded before the Collector battleship had unleashed its arsenal. It carved the _Normandy_ into floating scarp metal, taking only a New York minute to do so, with weaponry more powerful than he'd ever seen on _any_ vessel.

It was over before it began. The _Normandy_ held herself together as long as she could, limping forward while clinging to life, with her engines sputtering and oxygen venting from the ruptures in her hull. There was no call to abandon ship; it was unnecessary. His crew had handled themselves well, with discipline and professionalism, as

20 of his crew had not survived. _20_

They trusted him. They were his extended family. And, now they were dead.

He set the shotgun down, gripped the edge of the table, hard enough to make his fingers hurt, mouth pressed into a thin line.

2 years, and those memories still evoked only the most primal kind of rage. The kind that made him feel like nothing was past what he'd do.

 _They_ will _get their comeuppance for what they did to my crew. I_ will _have my revenge._

But, there was more to it, and he was well aware.

 _I can't, and won't, sideline the colonists, though. Protecting them is my responsibility, not Cerberus'._ _I don't take their orders. This is_ my _ship, not theirs._ _Its why I lead this mission now, under Cerberus' banner or not._

Taking hold of the HMWA X, he lifted it. He hefted its weight, and ran his fingers along its smooth barrel casing. Pressing its stock into his shoulder, he peered through its scope.

Such a fine weapon. Highest grade of assault rifle on the market, and that was without the enhancements he'd made to it. Despite the fact that thermal clips were now the new standard technology for small arms, replacing the automatic cooling of a few years ago, Shepard hadn't been so eager to make the switch.

On Horizon, Shepard would have a chance put his tried and true HMWA to use, to confront those Collector vermin head on, and make a difference where it mattered. He'd _be_ there to defend the colonists.

He'd b _e_ there to exact some vengeance-

" Commander ? "

There was no mistaking the smooth, oddly lilting tones of the ship's AI, ' EDI ',addressing him from one of the numerous projection emitters that were placed all throughout. With her avatar manifesting as a blue orb at the top of a short column ( something Jerimiah had found very odd, and still did, but decided to leave it alone for now ), EDI formally continued:

" Sir, there is a priority message for you. From the Illusive Man. "

Shepard didn't bother to hide the ' hff ' of displeasure that name elicited from him.

He still did not like, not trust, the head of Cerberus. It wasn't just on principle; after all, Shepard, who considered himself still an Alliance solider, did have a fundamentally negative opinion of the Human first organization he was currently, and reluctantly, working with. It was something about that man himself.

It could only be one of a few things. Either it was the way his eyes seemed not to be entirely human-with those, _circuits_ running across them-, or it was the unspoken ' information game ' he seemed to always be playing. No matter which one, he wasn't someone Shepard counted as personally inherently trustworthy.

 _I don't need that, though. Just for him to keep the intel coming, so I can act on it. That's all I need from him._

 _Allright, speaking of which-_

" Yes, EDI ? What exactly did he say ? "

The AI's demeanor didn't change from its usual clipped, efficient cadence. " I concerns the Collectors' attack pattern. That is all he told me, sir. "

 _So, they have a new target._

Shepard gently placed the HMWA back.

" I will take the call in the briefing room. "

He turned sharply on his heel, and made for the elevators.

* * *

There was something peculiarly reassuring about talking to someone who you had decided you disliked, Shepard reflected, as he closed the briefing room doors behind him, and stood waiting for the table in the center of the room to retract and bring up the QEC interface.

You could always count on you saying exactly what you wanted to someone such as him, without worrying you'd offend them ( assuming you cared about that ) . Chances are, they already could tell what you thought of them.

 _Must be what in-laws are like._

 _Probably._

The interface materialized, erasing the room around him, and instantly replacing it with the interior of the Illusive Man's headquarters, wherever in the galaxy it was.

More accurately, a very small section of it. It was obviosuly a station, but that was all that could be gleaned from these transmissions.

The section is question was a massive, featureless room. It actually hardly seemed to even _be_ a room: the windows were translucent, making it appear that the star speckled void of space was enveloping you. The floor was lined with reflective tiles that seemed to glow a bright grapefruit red and orange, from the light thrown out by the gargantuan, violently roiling star that was clearly that big even if the station hadn't been only half a million miles from it.

Against that spectacular backdrop, the Illusive Man reclined in his office chair, surrounded by his holographic desk display. He didn't have a smoke, for once, but that utterly calm and relaxed expression of his was, as if he knew more than anyone he could talk with.

 _Prick._

And, naturally, when he spoke, even his borderline _enthusiasm_ of what he had to say came off with a cool, self assured way that didn't betray much of his real emotions. It was a skill, that was.

 _"_ Shepard, I think we have them ! "

" That's a bit vague. " Shepard countered.

As usual, TIM was unruffled. He simply tapped a command on one of his interfaces, bringing up a holo of a medium sized world. It was mostly ocean blue, with large evergreen colored landmasses wrapping around it.

Shepard didn't recognize it.

" Horizon. ", TIM continued. " Its one of our colonies in the Traverse. A temperate, balmy place, with a sizable population of 654,390. "

" All commutations with it have suddenly failed. "

Shepard had been studying the hitherto unknown to him world as soon as it appeared, but TIM's recent sentence sent a spike of adrenaline through him.

 _Aha !_

He addressed TIM while still focused on it. " This is where the words ' Its a Batarian slaver raid ! ' are usually spoken. "

The charcoal haired man seemed pleased by that response. " Indeed. By the SA ( Systems Alliance ), or the Council. But, not me, and thankfully, not you. "

Shepard did not care for such oily veiled praise, but he choose to ignore it. He'd give TIM a piece of his mind in due course.

Fortunately, TIM switched to a more practical tack. " Its in the Iera system, of the Shadow Sea Cluster. I urge the greatest haste, Commander. Not only is this our chance to get an up close handle of what the Collectors can do in a fight, but everyone there is counting on us. "

He at least didn't add/or say " And on you ", Shepard noted.

" Allright. I'll give Joker the location. He'll plot us the most direct course. "

TIM nodded.

" Excellent. Its crucial to be prudent and well prepared here. Which reminds me: I trust your team has a way to neutralize their ' Swarms " ? "

 _Fair point. I was wondering if he'd ask about that._

 _Good thing Mordin is several miles ahead._

" My Chief scientist says he has a remedy, but he also says the only way to test it for certain is in the field. "

 _Even_ I _think that's risky, but what other choice is there ? None._

Lit by the star, TIM said nothing for a few seconds, doubtlessly thinking something similar. Finally, though, he nodded again.

" So be it. Well, that appears to be all you need, then. I will leave you to the task of stopping them now, Sheppard. Its in your hands. But, before you leave to make you final preparations, I have one last piece of information for you. "

Already eager to be on his way as soon as he'd learned of where to be to meet the next attack, Shepard didn't want to have to wait another second.

 _This had better be quick._

 _"_ Very well. " He crossed his arms. " Shoot. "

He expected for the ' something ' to be tactical, or strategic in nature. Maybe even some more poetic about the casue he was fighting for, as if he wanted that.

But, what TIM said next, he couldn't have anticipated.

" One of your former crew members is on Horizon. Her name is Ashley Williams. "


	2. Chased by memories and demons

Her world was wreathed in fire.

There was so much fire.

Everywhere Ashley turned, she met fire. Flames were splashed over every surface around her, savagely roiling and and crackling nearly seemingly alive. There was a fierce orange glow produced by it illuminating the way ahead, negating the need for the overhead lighting, which had failed and burnt out anyway. Roiling and chemically charged clouds of ebony smoke billowed off where the fires were, filling the upper halves of the ship's corridors and rooms, flooding out into every space it could.

And then there was the heat.

Though there were still sections where tempretures were livable, the one Ashley was in now was a total furnace. Anything made of plastic and fiberglass, especially anything nearest to the flames, had been half slagged, steadily liqifiying into sludge. Metal deck and wall plating sizzled , white hot and scalding, easily able to have given bare skin instant full depth burns.

If it wasn't for her helmet, her armor's inbuilt self contained breathing apparatus, and now-overclocked and overworked environmental controls, Ashley would have succumbed to heatstroke by now, or suffocated as the scalding air burned her lungs.

Suffocated and died, as the _Normandy_ SR-1 burned.

Many of her crew already had done both.

As Ashley ran through the deadly corridors, twisting and swerving around the worst of the inferno ( which didn't leave much space ), she had to head past the remains of the men and women who'd crewed the tough little frigate. They'd been killed on their feet, taken out by the damage-caused explosions that were now fueling the raging fires. They were slumped against the bulkheads, or sprawled face up, face down, where they'd fallen. Lying there, statue still in death.

Thankfully, most seemed to be down.

Ashley didn't have to risk glancing at their faces then. She'd see enough of those in her dreams later.

If she survived this.

 _Its's only been a few minutes, and already, we've lost this many ?! Who's out there ?!_

She didn't want to just rush past her dead brothers and sisters in arms. It galled and revolted her to no end-they deserved more than that-but she had no choice. Speed was life right now, and she'd lose hers just as they had if she didn't keep it up.

So, stealing herself for the moment, Ashley ran on.

Despite the wanton destruction, she knew exactly where to head. She'd just come out of the elevator that linked the hangar deck to this one; crew quarters, mess hall, infirmary, CO's quarters, and the stasis pods. The _Normandy_ was not a large ship, and she'd been on it more than long enough to have all but memorized every square meter. She was running ( in both senses of the word ) on reflex, letting her legs carry her to her destination hardly with needing to think of it.

 _This place is my home, and its getting shot to hell !_

Soon, though, she made it to the stasis pods, at the far end of the deck's layout. Sure enough, standing just beyond the very last pair of pods, facing away from her, stood a lone, tall, and sturdy looking figure, clad in armor as black as the choking smoke. Brandishing a fire extinguisher, the figure was busy unleashing it against the fires that were stubbornly clawing their way up and around the pods.

Even from behind, and despite the distorting glow put out by the fire, Ashley would've, and did, recognize who it was, instantly.

There was only one person she'd ever met, and certainly only one aboard, who wore armor such as that. Only one person who could seem so _commanding_ , and _confident_ , just by the way they stood. He was not the only one of his kind, not by a long shot, but Ashley was certain that none of his peers could quite stack up to the full measure of this man. Just not quite.

There was only one-

" Shepard ! "

The tall man, the one and only Jerimiah Shepard, turned his head at the call of his name. Instantly and clearly recognizing who it was, he turned all the way around to face her, revealing the inscrutable face of his Onyx helmet, and the unmistakably distinctive salt white, ruby red insignia of:

N7.

Set firmly and proudly into his chest armor plating. Every Alliance solider who was still _breathing_ today, no matter where they were stationed, no matter how remote it was, had heard much, and a lot, of the N7s. They were the cream of the Alliance's warfighters, the upper caste of soldiers that Humanity could offer.

They were the product of months of the most thorough martial training available. They were equipped with the best and most top of the line armor, and weapons the Alliance could make or buy.

They had, all of them, and most importantly of all, the indomitable commando mindset of " We are the best soldiers alive anywhere. " That's what made them what they were: The pinnacle of what every Alliance solider wanted to be. When an N7 was on the scene, you always thought for certain they would find a way out of a mess you didn't think was escapeable.

Ashley would be lying if she said this was the happiest she'd ever been to see him. And, not just for the aforementioned reasons. It made her feel _happy_ , as it always did.

But, those were ones that would have to wait, and that nobody else could be allowed to know. That existed only between them, and she aimed to keep it that way.

" Ashley. Did you find any survivors ? The abandon ship order has been sent, but I **won't** leave any of my people behind. ", he adressed her, in his natural deep tone, filled with steel as it was whenever orders needed to be given, and especially in a crisis.

He was a true N7.

 _Damn. We're blessed to have him in charge._

Coming to a halt a few feet away from him, Ashley did not waste a second to respond; a trait of all Alliance, officer to enlisted, N7 or not.

" No, sir. Came straight here as ordered, and checked every compartment en route. There's nobody left on this deck. What about the CIC ?! "

One of the coolant tubes for a pod abruptly came loose with a piercingly loud snake hiss. It flopped around, spewing clouds of vapor. Ashley briefly flinched, and Shepard dodged the tongue of flame that burst out when the tube whipped too close to the rest of fire.

The _Normandy_ was coming apart fast. That she'd held together this long was nothing but a God-sent miracle.

Rebounding first, Shepard closed over to Ashley, and she noticed then that he had another extinguisher in his other hand. He held it out to her.

Without a word, she took it. Immedietly, Shepard turned and returned to where he'd been using his, hosing down the inferno with torrents of foam. Ashley yanked the pin out of hers, and followed suit.

The heat was already brutal enough, and standing this close to it, Ashley could swear her outer plating was getting soft. The temp inside her suit was still temperate, but there wasn't anything soothing about fire _this_ close to you.

" Got to get this fire under control first ! ", Shepard was a little louder now, as the crackling became louder, matching the fire's intensity. " Its getting too close to the main coolant supply ! If that goes, the port side lifeboats' launch conduits won't trigger ! "

 _Its that bad ? How many of us aren't away ? This ship is dying !_

Ashley made herself stay on task, as she battled the fires on, hands aching from gripping the extinguisher's handle. She channeled her focus into attacking the base of the flames, gutting and erasing them. It was the only method to defeating a fire without an air drop: take it from the ground up.

Slowly, the fire began to lose ground.

" I think we've got it, sir ! " Ashley called out, feeling emboldened, as ratio of smoke to fire filling the are began to change toward the former. " A few more seconds, and then we can make a final sweep for survivors ! "

More hissing from Shepard's device, then-

" Roger that. Just about done here ! "

He was right. The fire had lost a lot of its punch. Where it had touched was scorched and darkened, melted even, but it was beaten. They'd won here.

But, the _Normandy_ burned elsewhere, and you could see that everywhere you turned. It'd been a vicious and unrelenting ambush. _Normandy_ had been hit hard

Fatally hard.

 _If-when, I hate like hell to admit that, but I have to be honest here- we're abandoning ship, but who'll be out there to come for us ?_

 _Who did this will suffer. They destroyed my home. Taken my comrades with it. Who's behind this will suffer._

Ashley inhaled slightly, then exhaled, which sounded louder than she thought it would against the interior of her helmet.

She didn't want to speak those concerns out loud. It wouldn't help at all. She'd stayed focused this far; just had to stay that way a little longer.

" Right, then. " Just out the corner of her eye, she saw Shepard set down his spent extinguisher, and turn toward her.

" Ashley. Take one last last sweep around, and get everyone left into the pods. I'll make for the bridge, get Joker out. "

" On it, si-"

 _Wait a second. Joker's_ still _here ?!_

Though Ashley felt for everyone they'd lost so far, Helmsman Jeff ' Joker ' Moreau was one of the few she was actually close to, and considered to a be a true friend. He was prone to bad jokes, sexually laden remarks, and occasional bouts of shameless high self confidence, but underneath and despite that, he was fun to chat with, easy to get to know, and an absolute master at his job.

But, he was a _friend_ to her, and he was still in danger. That was unacceptable.

" Why hasn't he made for the pods yet ?! ", Ashley's exclaimtion seemed louder to her than it should've. But, even so, was drowned out by the ever present cacophony of the _Normandy_ in its death throes.

Still holding on, but only just, and not for much longer.

Shepard shook his head. " I've been on comms with him nonstop, while trying to keep the fires here in check. He's still trying to stabilize our orbit, or what's left of it. "

" I'll get to him now. You, though, have your own task. ". He pointed back the way they'd both come, now less treacherous, somewhat, due to their improvised firefighting brigade.

" Joker and I will take our own pod out. Go ! "

Ashley's instincts, and the Alliance solider in her, compelled her in the first few heartbeats, to do as he said.

" Sir ! "

Her legs moved of their own accord, and she turned to to sprint back down the passage-

And then something critical came to mind. It just surged forward, right to the center of her focus.

 _Just_ leaving _him, when our ship's falling to pieces. This isn't some firefight planetside we can both fall back from, or fight through. We're out in space, and the only place to go is right into the vacuum._

 _I can't just walk away like this !_

She spun back around.

Shepard was already past her, though, heading swiftly for the stairs that led to the command deck, and the bridge beyond, with flat footed determination. There was still fire raging throughout the mess hall, leaving the narrow corridor that Ashley had run though to get to the pods.

Not that it slowed either of them. Shepard wasn't letting anyone, or in this case, anything, stand in his way. He was clearly bent on making sure he got his whole crew to safety, his own be dammed.

As always. But, dammit, not again !

" **Shepard** ! "

It wasn't yelling. But, she damn well made sure he heard her.

And it worked. He stopped.

Turned around, clearly surprised. But, predictably, not off guard.

Ashley knew she had only a heartbeat to make this moment count. It wasn't nearly long enough. Heart achingly not long enough. All of a sudden, Ashley wasn't sure if she could do this. She knew she _could_ , and would _have_ to, but that didn't help here.

 _Do it !  
_

 _"_ I _love_ you, remember ?! " Ashley nearly shouted it. " So, _don't_ make me have to come looking for you ! "

What did it matter that she'd told him she loved him before ? Or, that they were headed in different direction in the midst of a mortally perilous situation ? Not to her. She would tell him this, _when it felt right_.

And, it was now as well. Because, Shepard actually stopped.

He turned, fully facing her, no doubt looking her in the eye, despite his helmet obscuring his face. Everything seemed to stand still, for just a few moments, as the fires still raged, and the alrams still wailed.

Ashley was a good solider; she could multitask as a manner of instinct. But, moments like these, she focused on _him_.

He reponded; Short, but it was powerful.

" You've got my soul. "

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

' _Hhh_ ! '

With primally startled intake of air , Ashley found herself wide awake, sitting up fast as a coiled spring.

She was back alone in her quarters, a medium sized room, that was just as it had been when she woke. It was spartanly filled with just what a soldier would carry: kit bag filled with spare clothing and personal effects sitting beside her cot bed, a storage locker up against one unpainted wall containing her Phoenix armor and weapons, and a small red foam-filled exercise mat rolled out on the floor.

It was all the same. It was also couldn't have been any more different from what she'd woken up from if it'd tried.

" God, not again. It happened _again, no ! "_

She rubbed her palms into her face, as if trying to force the relentless nigthmare out of her head. The one that kept coming back. The one that wouldn't leave her alone, no matter how long it seemed to have left, and no matter how hard she fought it.

" Why can't I get _rid_ of it ?! _Why_ ?!"

Ashley wished and craved that. She had enough ghosts and skeletons to haunt her; her lost comrades of her old unit: D-Squad, Echo Company, 212th Frontier Rifles. They'd all been wiped out by the Geth on Eden Prime, fighting to thier last seconds of life, only to die regardless, and leaving her all alone. They'd all been her family, her extended clan. All of them dead.

She couldn't save them. It had destroyed her inside, and she'd known for certain that she'd _never_ forget it, or ever let herself think she could've done more. Now, this immortal nightmare was doing that to her all over again.

Except, there was one critical difference: She'd _loved_ one of the ghosts. She'd loved Shepard.

Yes, she'd loved them all- Jamin, Rosamund, Abishek, Amina-, but Jerimiah Shepard ?

Nobody else was to her what he'd been.

He'd been who'd she'd fallen for. He was the one she'd felt she could trust and confide in fully. Someone she relized wanted her to smile, and made her smile as well. Someone-

' _You've got my soul. '_

Someon-

 _' You've got my soul '_

Some-

' _You've got my soul_ '

" **AUUUGH! NO** ! "

Ashley Madeline Williams was one of the toughest fighters of the 212th Rifles, so said everyone of her commanders, in spite of their bias against her family name. She was every bit as full of backbone as any of the defenders of Shanxi, as her Grandfather had once told her. She came from a history of steel.

But, right then, that steel turned to slag.

Not caring if she hadn't been alone, Ashley buried her face into her palms.

And she began to cry.


End file.
